


Paper Planes (Reboot)

by BillieBanshee



Series: Paper Planes [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, Z Nation (TV), Zombieland (2009 2019)
Genre: Acceptance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Bisexual Daryl Dixon, Dark Comedy, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieBanshee/pseuds/BillieBanshee
Summary: Left for dead in a country you don't know with a single bullet in the chamber, you trek across Atlanta to get your revenge on the Dixon Brothers.----------------A/N:Read note on Chapter 1!I'm no longer going to follow the series in an episodic fashion (one chapter for one episode). Instead, you're going to have your own story; adventures in the background of the series. It'll still go hand in hand with the main episodes - perhaps you'll hear about an event, or maybe even witness it yourself, but you wont be directly involved and you won't be a Mary Sue, don't worry. Or maybe you will be involved. But you'll be your own person, you'll have your own story. Your own goals. Your own apocalyptic life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These first 2 chapters are really bad. Feel free to skip right to chapter 3 (which will be coming soon). You won't be missing much.
> 
> \--  
> With this whole corona virus thing going on I now have time to focus on this series. Sorry to everyone I have kept waiting almost a whole year. I had originally given up on this series, as all the things I had written were utter cringe and just pure trash. So, I've decided to take a new take on it... again. I had started this series around 2015, it's now 2020, I'm a fully grown adult and my writing skills have improved even /more/ over the year, so I hope you all approve with what I've got planned.
> 
> I'm no longer going to follow the series in an episodic fashion (one chapter for one episode). Instead, you're going to have your own story; adventures in the background of the series. It'll still go hand in hand with the main episodes - perhaps you'll hear about an event, or maybe even witness it yourself, but you wont be directly involved and you won't be a Mary Sue, don't worry. Or maybe you will be involved. But you'll be your own person, you'll have your own story. Your own goals. Your own apocalyptic life.
> 
> Old Summary: 
> 
> It was only the middle of June, and you should've still been in England, yet you were sure the rest of the world was in the same situation as you. You'd already been at the Dixon's temporary base for two weeks, spending your demanded time there for 'protection' until everything blew over. Which would probably never happen.
> 
> What caused the world to end?
> 
> Someone rumour has it that it burger. But that's just a rumour, right?
> 
> Book 1:  
> Carl x Reader and Hinted!Daryl x Reader until later.
> 
> So a few years ago I wrote a story called Paper Planes and it was popular but an absolute train wreck. This is the fanfiction rewritten, presentable and off hiatus. 
> 
> This story will go through all the episodes of The Walking Dead with YOU in it. To start off, you'll be around 13, and you will age along with the story. You'll mature, learn, and figure out along the way how to survive the apocalypse.

You sat, staring out of your window. It had become your habit over the previous two weeks. Sleep was elusive and when you did sleep, you were often plagued by nightmares. Your mind simply did not want to shut down.

It was only the middle of June, and you should've still been in England. Yet you were sure the rest of the world was in the same situation as you. You'd already been at the Dixon's temporary base for two weeks, spending your demanded time there for 'protection' until everything blew over. Which would probably never happen. You've done nothing but think during that time. You had far too many questions and too few answers. You constantly worked through every piece of information that you did have, hoping to make some sense out of everything. So far, you weren't having much luck and it was frustrating beyond belief.

Staring into the dark night, the world around you was eerily quiet. Over the past few days, the usual sounds of life became extinct. When your parents flew you over to Georgia to stay with your dad's old colleagues, everything seemed almost completely normal, although you knew it wasn't. From what you'd heard on the news, seen in the papers, there was some sort of virus going around... Bringing the dead back to life, and killing those it touched.

The Dixon's, 'Uncle' Daryl and 'Uncle' Merle, weren't very sociable. You got food, water, a bowl of water to wash with and a five minute walk in the garden each day; after that, you were given a book and told to keep quiet if you laughed a little too loud at a funny sentence. If you asked a question, or even tried to speak to Daryl, you got a grunt in response. You didn't even bother attempting to communicate with the elder Dixon unless it was mandatory. You weren't ready to be felt up and called sugar tits just yet. You were sure Merle wouldn't do anything like that to you, since he literally fed you when you were a baby and your dad trusted him with your life; but there was no harm in being cautious, considering his past 'n all. But you knew Merle wouldn't stoop that low. Not with you. Not to mention you had only just turned thirteen in April, and you wanted to settle into your new status as 'Teen'. Anyways, you were a wait until marriage type, and you knew Merle probably had AIDs. Daryl however— no. You can't think like that. Not now. You were just a kid to him.

You froze. You then stared harder at the shadows at the end of the street. Seconds later, you were sure of what you'd seen. Someone had just drove onto High Street. Watching closely, you tried to determine if it was friend or foe. It was difficult to tell because, whoever it was, they were extremely adept at sticking to the shadows.

They may have been good at keeping to the shadows, but you quickly realised that they weren't being overly cautious. They seemed to be in a great hurry. Moments later, they were highlighted by the soft glow coming from one of the camp fires in the yard as they crept closer.

You let out an exhale of breath, it was only Merle bringing back dinner.

"Merle's back." You announced to Daryl who was staring at the TV screen, channel hopping till he found something that was on air.

Of course, you got a grunt in response.

"Come on, caveman. Let's see what he brought us."

"I ain't a damn Neanderthal."

"...Daryl,"

Grunt.

"Food..."

"Piss off will ya?"

You opened your mouth to give him a telling off, but you knew better than to push him right now. Everyone was stressed, hungry, tired, so you simply hopped off the windowsill and shuffled your way downstairs to get your bit of grub.

Taking a sharp intake of breath, you rounded the corner, nodding once to the Pedobear. "What'd you get?" You asked hesitantly, looking up to the taller man.

"Didn't get shit. The whole towns overrun." Merle explained bitterly, "Yer gonna go hungry tonight."

You let out a small whine in protest, "Not even a tin of—?"

"There's nothin', kid. Not even a tin of beans. I suggest you go upstairs to bed okay? I gotta speak to Daryl 'bout somethin'-"

You gulped slightly, were they going to kick you out? Had you done something wrong? A million thoughts ran through your mind at once.

"-nothin' for you to worry about though. We jus' gotta prepare in case those walkers come for us."

'A+ parenting, Merle.' You thought sarcastically. You wouldn't dare to say _that_ out loud.

"Oh... Okay." You nodded, shooting him a nervous forced smile, "Um... Oh! Yes! That's what I was going to tell you! In the upstairs lounge there's a good watch out spot. You can see the top of the road, because at the bottom it's a dead end... So if you want, you can have like— like a five minute head start."

"Hm." He hummed, "That's a good idea. Could put Daryl there as a watch dog so he can finally do something useful."

A small snicker-giggle escaped your lips, "He's been moping all day. I think he's still trying to get the TV to work. The only thing on air is Friends re-runs. It feels like Groundhog Day," You sighed, shaking your head. "It's killing me."

Merle grunted a laugh before ruffling your unkempt hair, "Hunger will be the thing to kill you first, kiddo. Bed. It's 9 o'clock."

'Wait what?! Are we going to starve to death?! Oh god, oh god.'

"What'd ya' say? She looks ashen." Daryl grunted, entering the kitchen, eyeing up your slightly chubby panicked face as you stared off into space, clearly deep in thought.

"Told her she's gonna starve to death."

 _Grunt_.

You rolled your eyes, "I was just thinking. That's all. I hope mum and dad are okay." You sighed, shuffling off back upstairs to your room.

Naturally, the men gave you the little girls room.

Filled with barbies, pink walls, pretty white furniture, a small kiddies bed.

It felt as if they thought you were around eight years old.

In fact, you hated pink. You never liked it, you never will like it. But in times like these, you couldn't be fussy, you couldn't pick and choose where you wanted to live.

Merle and Daryl chose the houses. And in those houses, you would live until you were forced to leave.

Forced out by the walking dead.

——-

"How many?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"'Cause there's too dang many 't count, Merle."

"How is there too— oh."

"Yeah. Now go get the girl. We need 'ta pack up 'n leave before they come any closer."

"Before what come any closer?" You yawned, rubbing your eyes. Their arguing had woke you up. 

Your watch told you it was around lunch time, and ironically, it was the first time you had slept in this long in years.

"The walkers. We need to get goin'." Daryl ground out, handing you his knife, which made you feel rather special since he let no one use his things.

"But three people can't fit on the bike," You reminded him quietly. "I mean... It wouldn't be safe... And three would be too heavy... And Merle loves his bike, don't you Merle? So we can't leave it behind—"

"Are ya tryin' to convince us to stay? This girls lost her damn mind." Daryl growled out, looking at you in anger and disbelief, causing you to feel ashamed and small.

"It's true though!" You looked between the men in panic. "You guys can go. I'll be okay. I know how to do this."

Surprisingly, you were shocked at what was coming out of your mouth. Were you really going to give up so easily? The apocalypse had only just started.

"Yer an idiot." Daryl snorted, "Merle'll find a truck, we shove the bike on back. What do they teach ya in England? Yer all pathetic when it comes to this crap."

Your cheeks flushed in humiliation. What he said was true. One of the reasons you were sent over here was because of the guns. Most of England would be dead by now, apart from farmers and clay pigeon shooters, of course. Because guns and any other weapons were banned there.

Cringing, you confirmed what he said was true, and before you knew it, you were wedged between the brothers in a red Chevy.

A small yawn escaped your lips as you rested your head back against the seat, "Y'know," you started, "a knife isn't going to protect me when it comes to these walke—"

"No." Merle said firmly.

"Why not?!"

"As if we're going to find a gun round here," He scoffed, "They're considered more valuable than gold now days."

"Well, Daryl has a crossbow. That's not a gun is it? Anyways, you could just steal one—"

"If ya can make somethin' you can keep it." Daryl interrupted, causing you to smile slightly, "Make a slingbow. Simple to make, can shoot anything from it." He shrugged. "But, if ya find a gun you can have it. I don' think just a knife is gonna keep ya safe, unlike _Merle."_ Daryl shot a dark glare to his brother.

You bit your lip to hide your smirk as you sunk deeper into your seat.

There was a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive... To nowhere. Well, it was nowhere to you, since you had no clue where you all were heading. But you trusted them.

Your dad had worked with Merle and Daryl a few times. You weren't sure exactly what the trio did when they met up, but dad made specific trips to America to be with them every few months, and a few times a year they'd come over to England.

They said they were businessmen, but you weren't exactly sure how true that was. Salesmen, possibly, but businessmen? Nah.

"Where are we going?" You spoke after around half an hours silence.

"Dunno." Merle replied, "Ain't got a location set in mind."

You chewed on your lower lip slightly, looking down to the floor, "Can we go Six Flags? It's near Austell."

Merle shot you a slight glare, "I ain't drivin' four hours to go to a theme park that probably won't even work." He growled out.

You bit your lip a little harder, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew you shouldn't have asked, "But I want to go." You couldn't help but say, "I've never been... Mum and dad never let me. Dad was always working and mum... She doesn't like rides."

"Boohoo. It's too long of a drive." He snapped, stopping the car on the empty road. "If you're gonna complain about it the rest of the ride then I suggest you get out."

You looked up at him sharply, unsure if he was serious or not. He clearly was judging by his face.

What had you done wrong? You only pushed the subject slightly.

He was being so nice earlier.

"You— dad wouldn't want you to do this."

"Yea'? Well your dads probably dead along with your pretty little momma. Now get out. I've had enough of your shit."

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. You glanced quickly between the two brothers.

Daryl had the face of someone who had just eaten a lemon, and he clearly didn't agree. But he didn't say anything. He wouldn't fight his brother.

Not even for you.

"Um, which way is Austell?" You asked as Daryl opened the door to climb out, but you didn't give him a chance. You threw your bag over him before climbing over his lap, purposely kneeing him in the crotch. You got out of the car, nodding when he pointed in the direction, which was a guess for him.

His eyes seemed apologetic, but he didn't say anything. He did hand you Merles hand gun, which conveniently only had one bullet.

You narrowed your eyes, "What kinda bullets does this take?" You questioned as Daryl showed you the basics on how to load, unload and prepare to shoot, as well as how to take the safety off and put it on again.

"9mm." He said gruffly, ruffling your hair once as you turned to walk away.

You nodded, "Thanks." You mumbled, walking away off into the trees.

_I've had enough of your shit._

_9mm._

The last words the Dixon's ever spoke to you.

Arseholes.


	2. Chapter 2

To put it bluntly, America was a shithole. Everyone was dead, you were alone, you had a single bullet and all you wanted - all you desired, more than anything in the entire world, was to get back to England... and eat a cheeseburger. England and a cheeseburger. Being as naive as you were, you even decided to take your chances and go to an airport in hopes of a flight home, but all you found was more dead people and half eaten zombies. It was at that point you realised that everyone would be wanting a flight to another country in hope for a place of normality, however, it had been three months and there was no cure. There was electricity, barely, but there was enough for streetlights and for those in houses to stay warm at night, and you had hoped early on that scientists were using the rest of the power to do... science-y things. But, alas, nothing has come and all the hope you had inside you originally had dwindled to none, and now all you could feel was anger and rage, loathing, bloodlust and pure hatred.

The few survivors you had come across shared the same rumours about a plague started by a burger infected with a strain of mad cow disease that had mutated into the zombie infection. To quote an old friend: "Mad cow became mad human, which became mad zombie.", but of course, that was just a rumour. What wasn't a rumour, however, was that Atlanta was the current safe haven and entirely zombie free, which also conveniently was in the direction you were headed.

Currently you were walking down the freeway at around midday, judging by the sun. You were breathless from running from the dead, you had your backpack on your back, and Merle's pistol in your hand. You'd occasionally see a car pass, but like expected, no one would stop to help you. They most likely thought you were dead just like everyone else, or they thought you were some trap set by a gang of raiders that were gonna rob the kind citizens blind. 

In reality, you weren't that. You were a helpless teenager that was exhausted, hungry, and had only a single bullet that Merle most likely intended for you to use when you had gotten bit. You needed to rest. You had been walking for days on end and your feet hurt to the point you wanted to cry. Coming up over the hill you noticed a line of trees that lead into a forest; you could feel the temptation gradually getting more extreme, your thoughts going from "Cool a nice place to hide" to, "Can zombies climb trees? Let's find out.". You didn't even notice yourself veering off the road. It felt like you were on autopilot.

Walking slowly and carefully, you trod around the stray branches, careful not to let any snap under your weight. You couldn't take anymore zombies. Not today. You were well and truly done. Sure, they couldn't run, but right now they could easily catch you, and you knew zombies could catch those that were running anyways. Hell, you were pretty sure there was a horde tracking you right now anyways. There's always a Z somewhere around the corner ready to pounce, ready to eat another meal, just like a hobbit and their second breakfasts. 

You continued to walk through the dense forest, your lips pursed as you studied the area in front of you critically as you searched for the perfect tree, your mind starting to wonder about what you would do next now that there was no plane back to London. You could feel the panic rising in your chest from the empty hungry thing you call your stomach. 

_What if my family was dead?_

_What about my dog?_

_Could I get a boat to England? Or a train?_

_There are trains to England, right?_

_Oh god, what if I never get home? What if I get home and everyone is dead?_

_Oh god, oh god, oh god._

_I... I can't breathe. Am I having a heart attack? Am I dying?_

*~*~*

The bright morning sun shone on your face between the tree branches, the soft raspy breathing sounds of zombies surrounding the base of tree you scaled. Your eyes were crusty, your face was sticky and you felt emotionally exhausted. You lay on the thick branch, watching as the dead raised their hands, trying to grab at your finger you waved in their direction tauntingly. The dead man's fingers grazed yours briefly - just pad against pad. It was soft, waxy, sticky. 

You had been in the tree all afternoon yesterday, and cried yourself to sleep in it that night. With a single bullet, you wondered if it was time. Time to go. It's not like you can escape this tree with Zombie Joe and his gang down there trying to nibble your finger tips. But what if there was? What if there was some way to get creative and escape?

Back when you were a little girl, Daryl and Merle were very close family friends. They worked with your dad in a... business of sorts, selling stuff door to door. They were colleagues, the three of them like brothers. Your dad moved to America, as there was more money over there, and he'd send it back. But sometimes you'd be allowed to visit him in the good ole' states. You remembered how you'd sit on Merle's lap, eating pizza and watching Finding Nemo on the TV. Sometimes Daryl would take Merle's place and he'd tell you stories about him alone in the wilderness with only his crossbow and some ivy to survive. 

_'If you ever get lost, kid. Remember to bring black or red rubber bands with ya.'_ He'd say. You giggled at the statement back then, and even now you don't even know what it's used for. And you probably never will. You could only guess that it was used for dropping and leaving a trail, or maybe to make a rubber band ball, black and red for aesthetic reasons of course. There was something else you remembered he told you: _'Y_ _ou can make a bow and arrow if it's easier. Just need some curvy wood and some fishin' line.'_

_Curvy wood and fishing line..._

_That's not gonna do. You can't find fishing line in a tree._

Sitting up, you crossed your legs and looked down at the zombies below before studying your surroundings carefully. How could you escape them?

_Think, Y/N, think! What do I do?_

~*~*~

The branch above you would do. It took a while to get it down, but when it finally broke, you breathed a sigh of relief. It was no thin straggly thing, no, it was around an inch in diameter and very strong. Unfortunately it wasn't good enough for a bow, but it was perfect for a spear. You held your now dull and much abused pocket knife and began to trim the branch and sharpen the end the best you could. You then used your shoelaces and made a dummy string so you couldn't drop it into the monster pit below. It was then that you settled in for several hours of "poke the zombie". 

You tied the rope around your wrist, lowering the branch slowly and carefully. The zombies were looking up at you, which made the whole job so much easier. The first one was hard, the second was also difficult but not so much, and by the third you had gotten into the rhythm of things.

By the time all the zombies had been stabbed in the brain via the eye, you were sore and aching from the uncomfortable angle. You hopped down from the tree, stepping around the nine bodies that were all clumped together in a pile. You didn't even stop to look or check them out for anything of value - no, you ran. 

You couldn't get into a situation like that ever again. Never ever. What if you had gotten stuck up there and then died in the tree? What if you rolled over in your sleep and the zombies had eaten you? You needed a weapon. Something to prevent you from being chased up a tree empty handed and defenseless. You needed a bow.

_ Flashback: 5 years ago, 2005 _

_"Alrigh', so, you see this thing right here? This is an Ash tree. Extremely common around the world and very durable. This would be yer best friend if y' ever got lost or stuck in the wilderness. An' this, this is a hazelnut tree. They're common to England n' stuff but can be found in the states." Daryl explained as you strolled through the woods, holding on to your little hand with one of his, the other identifying the plants. You'd never expect a man like this knew so much about greenery. He looked so harsh and rugged, to you he seemed the sort that knew more about cars than plants._

_"Sticks have a natural curve, so if you ever wanted to make a bow use one of those two. You can identify an Ash tree the easiest, in my opinion anyway. They have buds at the ends. See? Pick up that branch over there." The man encouraged, letting go of your hand. Your little hands grabbed the thickest fallen branch you could find, using most of your strength to drag it back to Daryl. "Is this one okay?" You had asked him, flashing him a toothy buck toothed grin, dropping it by his feet before dusting your hands off._

"Perfect," You grunt, finding a thick Ash branch. The branch had a lovely curve along the belly. It wasn't too bent, however. Next, you took your much abused knife and began carving along the belly.

_"Careful not to take too much off the belly. It'll snap an' you don't want that." Daryl knelt beside you, helping you cut the branch into two. He carved his half of the branch, guiding you as you did your own. You didn't take too much off the belly, but enough to help it bend. After, he helped you make pine pitch glue from a pine tree that was oozing after some animal had scratched at it. Daryl had joked it was a bear, but you had a feeling it wasn't a joke even though he quickly corrected himself, saying it was a deer, after he saw how scared you looked._

_You boiled the glue on a fire, and whilst it was hot you stuck the carved sides together. Then you found some spruce rootage found nearby as twine. You tied the twine around the two glued together pieces to make it stronger and more sturdy on both ends. After, Daryl took the bow, bending it along its natural curve, leaning against it firmly. He seemed pretty impressed with the bow, and seeing him impressed made you proud. All that was left was to string it up. He took the twine and tied it to one end after carving a little line to keep the twine in place. He placed the branch under his leg and used his thigh to bend it even more as he tied the other end, giving it the bowish shape._

_To make the arrows you used saplings, feathers and the same pitch glue. You carved nocks at the end of the stick, the feather end. You used fire to help sharpen the stick. You then found feathers dropped by some birds. You split each feather into three and tied them to the glued end of the sticks with twine. He told you each arrow should last you around 6 uses, and if they got blunt you should just sharpen it and make a new body if they got short._

_"Good job kid, it's looking pretty damn good. How about you give it a go?" He suggested, holding out a hand to help you stand up. J_ _ust as you were about to take his hand and stand, a little butterfly landed on your shoulder. It was blue - a beautiful blue... The bluest blue you had ever seen._

**Bang.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come. Follow my tumblr: billiebanshee.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> More to come!


End file.
